


Sweeter than Cheesecake

by rtz684



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hopefully not too stupid, I suck at fluff so maybe this will help me practice, Shojo manga like, There is a bit of swearing tho, cakes, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rtz684/pseuds/rtz684
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idiotic but strong and determined, plain-looking but unpredictable. A cheerful and mysterious girl  whose life resolves around delicious pastry.</p><p>Cool, attractive and unninterested in everything and everyone, but still has a lot of things to learn. The guy tries to keep himself from getting in trouble, but doubts the limit between prudence and cowardice.</p><p>About their strange meeting and the times to come after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter than Cheesecake

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing, writing an original work out of nowhere when I have a million fics to write plus a translation and lots of other stuff? I have no idea! That's why I'll say this now: This is a random thing I came up with the other day and I wrote because I wanted to, maybe I will add more chapters later on if I feel like it but don't expect this to be serious or regular. Well, anyway, hope you enjoy this little experiment of mine!

A girl was being cornered.

It wasn't a rare sight in a big, shady city like this, once it got dark. Groups of three or four good-for-nothing youngsters would harass a pretty girl and drive her into one of the narrow alleys here and there at the sides of the avenue. Those men, even if unskilled, usually carried knifes and maybe even some cheap guns, and it would be plain stupid to meddle with them solo, even if the scene was tugging at your conscience as a moral human being.

He was no hero.

In a case like this, he would have just passed by, ignore he was seeing anything like all of the rest supposedly busy pedestrians crowding the street did.

Or he would have tried not to be noticed by the criminals as he called the police and informed quietly of the situation, watching from the corner of his eye.

But none of that happened.

The girl was certainly cute, a chestnut haired with big brown eyes, sparkling, average height, wearing tiny heels and long black stockings, a miniskirt mostly hidden under the long cream-coloured coat that covered her from neck to thighs, and hair made into low twintails long to her breasts. She had a handbag with her. High schooler? Maybe older, but still definitely a minor, a part-timer going back home, most probably. Perfect target.

The girl closed her eyes and sighed, making him blink.

"There are two things we can do from here on." She started, calmly, almost sounding tired - did she understand the kind of situation she was in? "One would be for you guys to keep going according to plan, do whatever you wanted with me. In that case, you can be sure I will have reported you first thing in the morning. No, I am not the kind of girl that will feel ashamed and dirty, keeping it all a secret, you better know that before you start anything"

She stared the criminals dead in the eye, making them nervous and wiping their shit-eating grins off their faces - this guys obviously did not have that much experience. "Unless you are planning on killing me afterwards, of course. But I'm sure young boys like you with a life full of possibilities before them wouldn't want to spend in jail half of it and be tagged as criminals just because you wanted to give yourself sexual satisfaction."

The guys exchanged unsecure glances between them. This was /not/ the kind of behaviour they had expected. Suddenly the girl's demeanour changed and she smiled warmly, tilting her head to the side.

"On the other hand, we could forget this ever happened and tomorrow you come by my place and I'll treat you to some delicious cake. Everything will be fine and you get to try the most delicious sweets in Japan served by my cute employees. How's that?"

He couldn't believe his eyes, nor his ears. The youngsters seemed in the same state. The surrealism of the situation brushed the absurd, and it seemed like at any moment someone would burst out laughing or whoever was dreaming this up would wake up. Yet the girl simply took three cards from her bag, offered them out and waved the others off as she passed by them to go back into the main street, as happily as ever.

In the distance, he watched them look down at the cards in their hands, stunned, and then started murmuring to each other. He almost jumped when he felt a finger touching his shoulder lightly. It was the same girl, only a step away from him, with another card in hand. She smiled at him. He looked at her as if she was completely out of her mind - which he was seriously starting to think.

"Hello! Saw you watching there. Would you perhaps want to pass by as well?" The card was put on his hand. He did not curve his fingers to grab it properly but it didn't fall down. His mouth was closed and he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well then!" The girl turned, waving at him before giving him her back fully and getting lost in the crowd. It took him a long moment before he was able to react and checked the piece of paper on his hand.

 **Le petite shiro pâtisserie**  it said. A telephone number and an address.

 

* * *

 

It must had been some kind of magic, what brought him to the shinny establishment the very next day. Or maybe he was just too indignant to leave things that way. All he knew was that it was five in the evening and he was standing there, before the automatic doors, just far enough for them not to detect him and open, staring at the cutely curved style of the words on the cartel dangling from the top of the shop. How could that girl be so naive and idiotic? Clearly she just had been lucky. What if those guys had been old-school criminals for real and not just a bunch of newbies. What if they had understood it as a challenge and everything had been even worse than it would have been were her to keep her mouth shut? Any other time, and this girl's little talk could have only turned back at her. Thinking about that carefree smile made his blood burn. Somebody had to kick some common sense into that idiot.

Plugging his hands into his pockets, he finally entered letting out a frustrated huff of breath. When he looked around his eyes where filled with round and sparkling patterns, ribbons, pastel coloured walls and curtains. Young couples sat at the tables, and girls dressed in the same colourful and adorned short dresses, along with lots of accessories, skated by in roller skaters, bringing food and drinks to clients with a sweet smile as if they were dancing.

For a moment, he thought he had to be in a maid café. But nobody welcomed him calling him master and they spoke casually with other waitresses and clients alike, so maybe it was some kind of modern European theme he didn't know about. His eyes found a waitress's "A client arrived!"

The sound of the wheels against the shiny floor met his hears, a tanned redhead rolled around a table gracefully and stopped in front of him, smiling somehow like the girl from the previous day "Welcome! Table for one or would you like to order to go?"

Suddenly it struck him that he must have looked out of place in his black and red clothing, sweater, necklaces, old jeans and trainers. He was dressed according to the latest 'bad-boy' fashion, and he was an attractive young man indeed - if the sideway glances that blushing giggling girls sent his way were anything to go by - but it was definitely not the kind of place one would think he would frequent.

He lowered his head and muttered in his deep voice, self-conscious "I wanted to talk to the manager". Because, based on the way that girl talked about this place and how she said the other's were her ‘employees’ she had to be the manager, no matter how unlikely it seemed with her age and looks. She looked like the kind that would work there, serving the tables, not owning it.

The waitress was surprised, but she nodded "Got it!" And turned away, rolling towards the counter. "Kyoko-san! A cute boy here says he wants to see you~" She said in what was definitely a teasing voice. Clients and workers alike smirked his way and he cursed quietly, making his way through the shop _I just need to have a word with that idiot, is all_.

He rested his elbow on the counter, cheek on his knuckles and hand in a fist, and waited, trying to ignore the stares he was sure he was getting at his back. The place was small, but the decorations and furniture made it sure that it was not modest. Must be part of the aura. Through the glass of the counter he took a look at the sweets displayed on the selves underneath. Fruits, chocolate, caramel, cream, ice, soft, fluffy... Small and artisticfully prepared, tiny golden cards beside each plate, signalling prices that were probably crazy high, he could tell, without really reading them.

From the corner of his eye he then caught sight of a group he had not noticed before. It was just as out-standing as he was, if not more. Three young men in baggy clothing, scary aura surrounding them and lowered heads sat together at a table in the far corner of the shop. It was definitely them, the guys from the night before. They really had listened to the carefree talk they were given, it seemed. He hissed lowly, eyes narrowing, and looked back at the front right in the moment the back door behind the counter was opened.

Brown hair and smart gaze, energetic attitude, it was definitely the girl he came searching for. She kicked the door open with her hips lightly in order to go through, her gloved hands occupied by a huge silver tray with three different plates of cake on it, each one fancier than the previous one. She was not just the establishment's manager. The white apron, dress and toque she wore - different from the others coloured uniform yet accompanied with some decorative frills here and there - marked her as a cook. Their eyes met, and at the same time his narrowed slowly, a pleased smile twisted her lips.

"Well well well. Seems like you came after all. To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to." She said, putting down the tray on the counter and licking her dry lips. "It's a nice surprise, though. Welcome to Shiropati."

 _She remembers._  For some reason and even with what little she knew about her, he wouldn't have been surprised at all if the air head had forgotten about him entirely "Shiropati?"

"It's the shortened version! French is very difficult to pronounce and doesn't it sound cuter like this?" You could tell how excited she got when it was the shop they were talking about "Ah― But being this kind of shop it can't be anything but French. Lot's of cakes have French names after all. For example-..."

He raised his hand, cutting her off. "Not interested." He said bluntly. "It's not what I came here for anyway."

"... Oh. Yeah I haven't even introduced myself! Fukuda Kyoko. I own this place." The girl said bowing politely.

  
He wasn't known for having an ever lasting patience, of all things, and it was already running low. "Kimura Daisuke." and before the other could add anything else "I did not come here as a client. I came to talk."

The girl's expression changed. The kindness turned into slight surprise, and then into tiny amusement. "Is that so? How straight forward. Let's talk, then."

Daisuke closed his eyes and breathed in. Held it for a moment, then breathed out calmly. He had to come out as caring and nice - which he wasn't - or else it would make the girl feel like a child being scolded, and that would end up being a bother, he could tell. "Look" he started "I don't mean to act like your mother here, or to go ordering you around... But... If this keeps happening, you are gonna get raped for sure and I don't want to have that hanging on my conscience"

  
An eyebrow was raised at him. Okay, maybe he had kind of missed the point. "It's nice that you try to be reasonable and all, only that it's the stupidest thing you can do." Without fully turning his head, he gave the weird costumers a quiet glare, lowering his voice "That kind of scum is not people you can reason with."

"I'm sorry but I don't know where all this is coming from." The voice had taken a serious tone now, and when he looked back at the counter, Kyoko had her hands on her hips and looked at him with an unwavering expression, a lot more adult-like than the ones she had showed before. Maybe she wasn't as young as she looked, after all. "As you yourself witnessed, that turned out all right. I appreciate your concern but I am perfectly capable of defending myself, thank you very much."

 _Annoying_. "No you are not. Do you even have any fighting skills or anything to fight back with? You were just lucky this time, but it won't always go that way. By acting all brave and proud like you did then, you are only provoking them further." He snorted "Some get a kink out of that. Rebellious subjects. It was a dumb _and_ dangerous thing to say. You cannot go around town treating criminals like they are bad children or you aren't going to make it far, woman."

"You seem to know a lot." There was an accusing undertone in the girl's low voice now. No, she wasn't exactly thankful for the advice she was getting, it seemed. In any case, she was pissed. Well, shit.

He looked at her dead in the eye, trying to get her to use her brain and accept useful information when she got it. "I'm serious. Yeah, it may seem like you can scare them off with a confident façade, or at least you won't lose your dignity. But in that kind of situation you can't afford to think about meaningless things like that. Fuck pride. It will get you nowhere." The manager's brown eyes narrowed further. "At the first sign of danger you should at least try to contact the police even if through a silent call, if the guys are not that smart - and they usually aren't - you get the chance to type on your phone behind your ba-..."

"I do not own a cellphone."

The boy paused at that. “… Are you for real?” She crossed her arms over her chest. College-student looking girl who owns a cake shop, idiotic and cheerful yet stubborn and proud, who will invite criminals to some sweets but will not admit her faults and accept sincere help, and who didn’t own a cellphone. What kind of girl was this!? “You are really weird, you know…” He closed his eyes and sighed, so he didn’t get to see the other’s indignant face at his words. _Tiresome._  “What person your age doesn’t have a cellphone? Even if that’s the case, you are not supposed to go aro-“

“Then what do you suggest I do, exactly?” Kyoko started tapping her foot on the ground, impatiently and sounding fed-up. Her completely unjustified irritation had Daisuke’s own reaching it’s peak.

“Goddammit! Use your brain a little!” He slammed his fist on the glass – which fortunately did not break. Until this point he had kept his volume in check, but he couldn’t help shouting now and the room fell silent, all eyes on him. He couldn’t give a shit. “Instead of acting strong, try to ask for help or something! Scream, call, cry, whatever! Make yourself noticed! You know you can’t beat those guys up so how are you supposed to save yourself if you don’t let other’s help you!”

“Oh, help me isn’t it!” The girl barked back, voice scornful and poisonous, eyes ablaze. “Just like you did, right? Because that’s so helpful! The rest at least had the decency to pretend as if they didn’t notice but you simply stayed there staring like a dumbfuck!”

Silence took over. The atmosphere was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Kyoko was panting, both hands on the counter, leaning towards him defiantly and never breaking eye contact, glaring daggers at the boy in front of her. Daisuke’s mind went blank. That was right… Every word he had said, he meant it… But all those _ask for help,_   _let others save you_ he had been thinking about somebody else right? Because we always expect somebody else to do those kind of things. You don’t seriously see yourself taking on three guys, unarmed. You don’t see yourself even trying. The girl turned away.

Daisuke lowered his head, black bangs covering his eyes. He clenched his jaw and fists in frustration. That’s right.. Even if she hadn’t asked for it, even if other’s wouldn’t help… He had been there hadn’t he? Seen it all and done nothing. She was right. If it were for _his help_ the young manager would have not made it. He was trembling in rage. _It has always… Always been like this._

“Here.” The girl’s now stoic voice broke in, and a small packet with a ribbon was placed before him abruptly. “Free cake as promised.”

Another minute of silence. Neither of them would look at their opponent. Daisuke reached out slowly, and took the sweet-smelling packet. He couldn’t find his voice to say thank you, or to say anything really and it didn’t matter. He was not supposed to say anything now, he was supposed to leave. And so he did. He made his way between clients and waitresses quietly, the only noise coming from the automatic doors when they opened up for him to walk out.

The air was chilly outside and he never stopped walking, nor did he raise his head. He was pretty sure the cake was being crashed in his clenched hand. Maybe Kyoko wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t admit when she fucked up, after all.

 


End file.
